mark the passing of my grandchild. I gave something similar to Sheridan,” his voice wavered, “after each miscarriage.”
Was he for real? I had come in here ready to give him a piece of my mind and then unceremoniously kick him out. Despite his perceived kindness, he still deserved some ire. “You mean the grandchild you threatened to take away from me if I didn’t marry Brock?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, his face turning a shade of red. “I regret my actions.”
“Because you got caught or because you’re sorry?”
He locked eyes with me, and I saw that his dark eyes had lost a lot of their coldness. “I am sorry, Dani.” Without another word, he cautiously approached me and held out the bag.
With the same trepidation, I took it, not sure if I should open it or not. Or if I should believe his apology.
“It’s nothing more than a gift. I expect nothing in return, not even your thanks,” he said like he’d read my mind.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I plunged my hand into the tissue paper and pulled out a Tiffany-blue box. The same color of box my hideous first wedding ring had come in—the one I was refusing to wear. I wasn’t wearing the one Brock had given me either. If and when I did, I wanted Brock to place it on my finger. I set the gift bag on the floor before opening up the jewelry box. Slowly, I lifted the lid. Inside I found a delicate gold chain with a shimmering pearl attached. It was so simple, yet perfect. I hated to admit it.
A big ball of emotion rose in my throat, making it hard to speak.
“A pearl is a symbol of perfection and fertility. For me it is a symbol of hope. I remember that with each child we lost, while it saddened me, it devasted Sheridan. As I know it has you. I believe, though, you will hold a baby in your arms, just as we did.”
The emotion swelled to the point it wouldn’t be held back. The tears manifested themselves. “Thank you.” I had no idea what else to say. For a moment, I forgot he was my nemesis. For a split second, he was my father-in-law. I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t sure I ever would be, even if Brock and I stayed together. I snapped the box shut. “Is that all?” I said hastily before I had any more kind feelings toward him.
“We need to talk.”
I’d figured this wasn’t only a social call. I walked over to my desk and took a seat. I was already tired and knew our conversation would probably exhaust me more.
He took a seat in front of my desk. Like Brock, he made the tiny office feel even smaller. Holland men had this presence. It filled rooms and, in my case, my soul. At least when it came to Brock.
I waited for him to speak.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts. It wasn’t like him. I’d always known him as someone who was never at a loss for words.
“Dani, you must realize what a precarious situation we all find ourselves in,” he began.
“I suppose it depends on what you’re hiding.”
He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. “It is enough that it could spell the end of life as we know it.”
“You would rather have the life you have now? The one where your wife and sons aren’t talking to you?”
“No, damn it.” He slammed his hand on my desk. “Why can’t they see I’m trying to protect them and you?”
“Protect us from what? The lifetime of misery you’re subjecting your son to if he marries into that vile family? Which will only give Edward Copeland more opportunities to further ensnare us all.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“Then why?”
He shook his and sighed. “It’s complicated. Edward not only plays the game well—he writes the rules.”
“Write your own rules, John. The way to beat bullies isn’t by playing the game better; it’s by not playing at all. Lose the game and save your family.”
“Do you have any idea what I stand to lose? My family has owned Holland Industries for over seventy-five years. We’re a leader in the oil and gas industry. One doesn’t just put that on the sacrificial altar. I have employees and stakeholders counting on me. I hold people’s livelihoods in my hands, and I take that seriously.”
I hadn’t ever thought of that. But . . . “What